Girl's (10 page)

Daddy brought down some paper and crayons, and for a brief time, he left her coloring on the kitchen table while he went to his study to gather together a calculator and what paperwork he needed to pay some bills. By the time he was ready to sit down opposite from her, one glance at her artwork pretty much told him that her mood wasn't on the verge of improvement. The page in front of her was absolutely blank, but there were three tightly wadded up doodles not far away.

After a moment of unenthusiastic study, Meg crumpled up the blank page as well. One sweep of her arm sent all four balls flying off the table, scattering them in all directions across the kitchen floor. One even bounced as far as the door and tumbled over the threshold into the living room.

"Now you can pick them right back up again," Daddy said calmly, without even looking up from his checkbook.

Dutifully, Meg got up from her chair and picked up the three balls in the kitchen. The fourth proved a little more difficult, but she eventually found it hiding under the edge of the sofa. She bent over to pick it up. As she turned to head back to the kitchen, not paying attention to where she was going, she misjudged the distance between herself and the coffee table and cracked her shin on the hard wooden corner.

"OW! God dammit!" Dropping all four paper wads again, she half-sat and half-fell back on the couch and grabbed her throbbing leg.

And realized what she'd said about the same instant that she heard Daddy's chair scrape back from the kitchen table. She clapped both hands over her wayward mouth, but it was too late. Daddy filled the doorway, a funny look on his face: dark but concerned, tinged with anger but in an oddly steady and controlled kind of way.

"What happened?" he asked, his tone painstakingly neutral. One look at his spanking hand told an entirely different story, though. It was flexing, an ominous sight that made her bottom tingle dreadfully.

Meg slowly took her hands from her mouth. In a very small voice, she said, "I whacked my leg on the coffee table."

He knelt down in front of her, lightly touching the angry red spot where the pointy corner had obviously caught her. She winced when his fingers skimmed the area surrounding it as he looked for signs of swelling, but then relaxed when he bent forward and kissed her knee.

"I think you'll survive."

"Maybe I need a band-aid."

"It's a grievous injury," he said solemnly. "Do you want butterflies or rainbows?"

She almost smiled, but she knew she was already in trouble for saying such a bad word and right now she was a little too scared for smiling. "Rainbow."

He stood up and held out his hand, and she limped alongside him to the bathroom. At the sink, he picked her up under her arms and her diaper crinkled softly as he sat her down on the counter. Administering his special Daddy's brand of first aid, he fit the rainbow band-aid over the tender spot and, for good measure, kissed it gently one last time. "This should make it better."

Though she could still feel it throbbing and she'd likely have a bruise there by sundown, just his saying so almost made it hurt a little bit less. She traced the pattern of brightly colored rainbows with her fingertips. Funny, how Daddy could do that so easily with the outside owie. Why couldn't he do that with the inside one, too?

Bracing his hands to either side of her hips, he leaned against the counter and looked at her. It was The Look, the stern Daddy expression that preceded scoldings and lectures and, sometimes even worse-Meg swallowed hard, her bottom cringing-spankings. Her stomach did a nervous little flip-flop and she began to wring the hem of her dress between her hands.

"What am I going to do with you, Meg?" he softly asked. When her eyes dropped to her lap, he caught her chin and forced her to look at him again. "No, baby girl. You don't get to hide from me. I want an answer. I've been trying all morning to break through this temperamental shell you've surrounded yourself with. Nothing I've done is working. And now you've said a bad word. Two of them, in fact, and I don't see this shell disappearing. So tell me, Meg, what am I supposed to do?"

Spank me, a little voice inside her said, startling Meg. She almost covered her bottom, but quickly swallowed the urge. No, no, she couldn't say that. She didn't want a spanking. Not from Daddy's hard hands, no, no, no! But the little voice persisted, saying that she needed the spanking so the bad feelings would go away.

"I'm waiting, Meg."

She squirmed on the counter, breathing a little faster and twisting her dress even tighter. Spank me. Two simple, little words, and yet she couldn't say them. She settled for the next best thing instead. "I don't know."

"That's not a good answer. Give me a better one."

Her shoulders raised in the smallest of shrugs. "I don't have a better one."

He tipped his head slightly to the side, studying her silently for several long minutes.

Was a shrug the same as a lie, she wondered. She fidgeted with her dress, catching her breaths in quick little pants. It probably was the same. So now, she was going to get spanked for acting badly, and for swearing, AND for lying. Her lip began to quiver and this time she couldn't stop it.

"What do you need, Meg?" he asked her.

"I don't know," she cried, fat tears spilling past her lashes and flowing down her cheeks.

"Do you need some time to think about it?"

She nodded, gasping as she struggled to pull herself back together.

"All right, then let's go ahead and take care of those naughty words. Then you can have some time to think afterwards." He gathered a handful of toilet paper, wiped her eyes and held it to her nose. "Blow," he said, gently wiping when she did. "Remember, I love you, and I'm not going anywhere." He smiled faintly. "Except upstairs. Wait for me right here."

She nodded, sniffling and looking down at her hands when he left the bathroom. She heard his feet on the stairs and then the cabin fell quiet. She swiped at her eyes with the back of one wrist and ruefully tried to smooth out the rumpled mess that she had made of her clothes. Such a pretty dress, too, and she'd just ruined it. Her shoulders slumped, but she raised her eyes to the ceiling when she heard his feet coming back down the stairs.

After only a few seconds, he walked back through the bathroom door. He set a tube of K-Y on the counter and placed a narrow butt plug next to it. He met her wide-eyed stare only briefly before continuing on to the towel closet. From one of the upper shelves he took down a fresh bar of Ivory soap. He unwrapped it right in front of her and held it up to her tightly-clenched lips.

"Open," he said, unsmiling.

Meg shuddered, but opened her mouth, curling back her tongue in an attempt to avoid contact with the soap.

Unfortunately, he noticed. "Tongue flat. Open wider."

He pressed the bar straight into her mouth, laying it right on the end of her tongue. Her eyes screwed shut immediately. That awful taste seemed to spread automatically from taste bud to taste bud until it filled her mouth. She dared not swallow.

"Bite," Daddy said, and she oh so reluctantly bit down on the end of that bar of soap. He put a dry washcloth in her hand. "If you swallow, you'll probably end up with a tummy ache. But I want to make sure you get a good mouthful of what happens to little girls who mistakenly start thinking of themselves as foul-mouthed sailors, so just let it drool on out around the sides onto the cloth."

She shuddered, her eyes and mouth both watering as the taste of it coated her tongue, teeth and lips.

He slid his hands under her arms, lifted her up off the counter and set her back down on the floor. He slid her diaper down past her knees and bent her over the sink. While she coughed and sputtered on the soap, he liberally coated the butt plug with the K-Y. She drew a sharp breath when she felt him spread her bottom cheeks apart and the first cold touch of the gel- covered rubber tip nosed up against her. She clenched automatically.

"None of that now," Daddy said, spreading the gel all over her tightening little bottom hole. "Relax, or you're going to make this much worse than it has to be."

Whimpering around the soap, her eyes pleaded with him in the mirror, but he pressed the anal plug gently in and out of her several times, making sure the gel coated where it was needed and forcing her to expand gradually around the persistent intruder.

"Relax," he said again, and this time when he pressed into her, he didn't stop. Meg wailed around the soap as the widest section popped past her anal rim and settled right inside her bottom. She stamped her feet, reaching back as if to pull the uncomfortable thing back out of her, but Daddy caught her hands. He pulled her diaper back up into place. "All right now, my naughty little miss, it's straight to the corner with you. And I want you to think about why you're in such a poor mood, and what we can do to change it."

He placed her in the corner by the towel closet, that nasty Ivory soap in her mouth and the anal plug deep inside her bottom. Meg stared at the wall with tears rolling down her face, trying her best not to swallow, her thoughts entirely consumed by the nasty taste. Even the invasion of that awful plug had taken a backseat to the Ivory soap, because at least when she stood still that didn't feel as bad as it had when Daddy'd first pushed it into her.

Not that she blamed him for putting it inside her bottom. That's what she got for being naughty in the first place. And if she'd only told Daddy what she needed in the first place-a really sound spanking-then this would probably all be done with right now and she could have been in his arms, with his heart beating against her cheek, enfolded in his comforting, forgiving and loving embrace.

Daddy didn't leave the bathroom, but stood with his hip propped against the counter, arms folded and ankles crossed, every now and again checking the time on his watch. After five minutes, he came to take the bar of soap out of her mouth. "Are you ever going to say bad words like that again?"

Unable to talk without her tongue tasting some other equally soapy part of her mouth, Meg just shook her head.

"Rinse your mouth," Daddy said, and she all but ran to the sink, rinsing and spitting repeatedly, though it didn't quite get rid of the awful taste. When she could swish water through her teeth without spitting bubbles afterward, he handed her a clean towel. "Are you ready to talk now?"

Meg pressed the towel to her mouth, still shuddering and trying hard not to gag. Without looking at him, she shook her head.

"Back to the corner then." He turned her towards the towel closet and gave her bottom a swat to get her going. "I'm going to give you some privacy, but when you figure out whatever you need to tell me, I'll be waiting for you in the living room."

She was in that corner for nearly twenty minutes before she finally worked up the nerve to confront him. Daddy was sitting on the couch, watching the news, but he looked up when she came down the hall. Picking up the remote, he pressed the mute button and half-turned around in his seat. He held out his hand, and she came to him, letting herself be pulled down on his lap.

She felt funny sitting down with the plug still in her bottom, but at the same time it also felt nice to have his arm around her shoulders and to be able to rest her head on his strong chest. She curled right into her embrace, drawing her knees up so that he hugged all of her at once. And it was so much easier to talk to his neck than to actually have to look directly at him.

He rubbed her shoulder, his hand caressing up and down her arm, and didn't speak so she could say what she needed to in her own time.

"I need a spankin'," she said, in a voice so soft that it barely qualified as a whisper.

When she failed to continue, he prodded, "Why?"

She fidgeted with the buttons of his shirt. "I got a bad feelin' inside me. It won't come out."

"What kind of bad feeling?"

"I don't know." She shook her head. "Maybe you can spank it out of me. But maybe softly. So it won't hurt."

"I don't think bad feelings listen to spankings that don't hurt," he told her. "Are you sure you want a spanking?"

She stopped playing with his shirt buttons, shaking her head sadly. "I don't wanna spankin', Daddy. I need one."

"Well, you sure have been pushing all the right buttons today." He kissed her forehead. "I love you, baby girl. When you're sad, I am too. So if this is what you need, then I'm more than happy to help you."

Meg trembled but she stood up when he nudged her to, wringing her hands while he slipped his under her baby doll dress and tugged her diaper down to her ankles.

"Step," he said, and she held onto his shoulders while he took it off completely. He reached for her. "That bad feeling has made you unhappy for long enough. It's time it went bye-bye."

"Not hard," she begged as he lay her neatly across his thighs. Staring at the hard wood floor, feeling his hand briefly caressing her naked bottom, her eyes began to tear. She clutched his leg. "Please, Daddy, not hard."

"I'm sorry, Meggy, but this has to be hard or it won't be effective."

Using only his bare hand, he spanked and spanked until her bottom was a hot, sizzling scarlet. And though Meg was crying within only the first few vigorous swats, it was a long time before he delivered the final smack.

She was forced to straddle his lap afterward, the hand that had punished her being the only thing she could bear to have touching her sore and aching flanks. And though he left her sobbing raggedly, by the time he let her up again, the mad feeling had vanished. Inside, she felt calm again. Cherished.

Daddy had been right, and he had given her exactly what she needed.

Chapter Six

Meggy woke up on the last day of her vacation in Daddy's bed by herself. Streams of sunlight filtered in through the gauzy curtains to shine across the bed and splashed into her eyes. She started to roll over, but stopped almost immediately. Everything felt a little sore. Her bottom hurt. Her nipples felt stiff and tender from the clamps he'd attached to each. The insides of her thighs ached from where she'd clasped him, and she was even tender up inside, for Daddy had been both demanding and insatiable throughout the night.

She reached over to touch his side of the bed, but the sheets and pillow were cold and her hand encountered only the baby monitor. Rubbing her eyes sleepily, she raised her head to peer at the clock on his bedside table. Eight-fifteen. She'd slept in.

Picking up the baby monitor, Meggy slid her feet over the edge of the mattress and sat up, listening. The house was still and silent. She crawled out of bed and, dressed in only her diaper, padded barefoot to the window to look outside.

Her car had been moved from the garage to the front porch and the hood was propped up. Daddy was currently leaned over the engine, adding windshield wiper fluid to the appropriate spout. A full oil pan not far from his leg showed he'd already changed that and, as she watched, he set the jug of wiper fluid aside to check the levels of the brake and steering fluids as well. Then he closed the hood and began to test the air pressure in all four tires.

The end of her vacation had arrived. Today, she had to leave.

"I don't wanna go," Meg said softly.

And outside, squatting in front of the driver's front wheel, Daddy paused and straightened slowly. From his coat pocket, she saw him take out the baby monitor receiver. He held it in his hand a moment, then turned to look up at the bedroom window.

"I don't wanna go," she said again, whining though she knew he didn't like that.

His hand drooped to his side and Daddy hung his head.

"I wanna stay," Meggy said plaintively.

Daddy headed for the porch. She heard him come in the house and his heavy footfalls came up the stairs. She bow her head, but didn't turn around when he entered the room. It wasn't until he stood behind her, cupping her small shoulders in his broad hands, that he managed to coax her to face him.

"I don't want you to go, either," he said, and picked her up in his strong arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs tight around his waist, holding him as tightly as he held on to her. "I'd much rather take you back to bed, remove that sexy little diaper, and make my little girl sigh and cry with all sorts of good girl feelings." He patted her seat. "I'd love to spend the day with this naughty bottom offered up to me. I'd spread you open and sink all the way inside you. Remember how you squirmed and cried last night? You begged me not to push so deep and hard in your bottom. I know it didn't feel good at first, but you still came for Daddy, didn't you?"

Meg blushed and buried her face against his shoulder. That part of her was still sore, too.

"As much as I want to keep you with me, baby girl," Daddy continued, "I have to send you home. I need the big girl to be as sure as my Meggy that this is what she wants. She needs distance so she can think clearly."

He cupped her bottom, smiling faintly as he gently squeezed and she stiffened with a gasp.

"Owie, Daddy!"

"Still sore?"

Her cheeks turned pink and she didn't look at him, though she did put a hand back to soothe the tender spot.

"That's what happens to little girls who tell Daddy no. Their little bottoms get spanked and they end up doing what they were told to in the first place."

"I don't like that belt," she grumbled, rubbing ruefully.

"Good," he said, completely without remorse. "Then maybe you won't work so hard next time to earn another session with it." He patted her diaper. "Have you gone potty yet?" She opened her mouth, but he cut her off with, "Don't even ask, Meggy. The answer's no. Now be a good girl for Daddy one more time."

She grumbled and pouted, but obligingly squirmed to be let down so she could do as he asked.

"No," he told her and held her close, her round breasts flattening pleasingly against his chest. "I want you right here. Do it right as you are."

Her face turned red and she stilled.

He rubbed her diapered bottom, coaxing, "Be a good girl for me, Meggy."

Groaning, she buried her face in his shoulder and closed her eyes. Her entire body tensed just before she released her bladder and slowly wet her diaper. She squirmed again, not liking the feel of it touching her skin, but he only kissed her forehead as he carried her downstairs to the bathroom and removed the soiled diaper before gently wiping her clean.

Her morning bath was the longest he'd yet given her. He took his time washing her hair and face, caressing her body with a thick, sudsy cloth from top to toes. Though she didn't really need it again so soon, he patiently shaved her anyway. When she was once again as bald as her little baby self should be, he gave her sex a fond little pat, rubbed the nub of her clit twice, and rinsed her off under the shower head.

Holding her hand as she stepped over the side of the tub, he asked, "What do you want for breakfast?"

"Um. . .French toast?"

"Do you want a banana or an apple with that?"

"Apple."

"If I give you hot chocolate, will you have trouble drinking all your milk?"

She shook her head, though it was difficult to tell since he'd already covered it with a towel while he vigorously rubbed her long brown hair dry.

So Daddy snatched back the towel. "Was that a no?" he asked, making a funny face. Meg giggled and nodded before disappearing back under it again.

He left her coloring at the kitchen table while he prepared the morning meal. In order to be home at a decent hour before her vacation officially ended tomorrow, he knew she'd need to leave early. So in between flipping the French toast, he bagged up some snacks for her for the road: an apple, a ziploc baggy full of pretzels, a baloney and cheese sandwich cut into triangles and without the crust, and two boxed fruit drinks. Folding the top of the sack down, he put it in the fridge until it came time for her to go.

As he went back to the stove to turn the toast again, from the doorway behind him, he heard Meggy ask, "Can I put this on the fridge?"

He turned to see her holding a crayon picture close to her chest. "Of course. Do I get to see it?"

Shyly, she turned the picture around to show him. "It's not very good."

The Smiling Little Girl with her Daddy picture that Meggy showed him wasn't Rembrandt, but Daddy David found the picture endearing. He looked at it for a long time, then once again kissed Meg on the forehead and found it a place of honor on the fridge door. He gave her a light spank on the bottom. "Get up in your highchair."

He brought out breakfast on a common plate, setting it on the table before tying a teddy bear bib around her neck. It was his last chance, so he made the most of the opportunity to feed her, bite for bite, dabbing at her mouth after each with a napkin and making sure she drank all her milk.

"What are you going to do on the drive home?" he quizzed while they ate.

And Meg dutifully answered, though her look turned almost petulant. "Drive carefully and call you every hour."

"I'm going to give you my cell phone, and I expect you to use it. Are you drinking your milk?"

She nodded and opened her mouth as he brought up a sliver of apple.

"What are you going to do the minute you get home?"

"Call you so you know I made it okay."

"And?"

"And then I'm on the honor system."

"Which means?"

She traced an invisible pattern on the tray around her sippy cup with one finger. Her bottom lip poked out.

"Which means?" Daddy said, a stern note creeping into his tone.

She pouted. "Yucky oatmeal for breakfast once a week, and I hafta drink nasty milk at every meal."

He gave her another bite of french toast, dipped in a little extra honey to help sweeten her grudgingly given submission.

After breakfast, he took her upstairs to her room and for the very last time, took off her diaper and her baby-girl dress, with its lacy pink socks and Mary Jane shoes. Panties felt strange after a week of diapers. And her jeans and t-shirt felt nowhere near as comfortable as her pretty dress, which Daddy packed in a sack along with her drop-seat pajamas, Bear and her comfort blankie, and the road snacks. After only a moment's indecision, he also added two binkies and The Cat in the Hat book from her toy chest.

And throughout the packing, Meggy leaned against her crib, holding onto the bars with both hands and watching him with watery eyes. "I don't wanna go," she said again when he held out his hand to take her back downstairs.

"I know," he said, but his hand didn't waver. "Come on."

She shook her head and grabbed onto the crib as tightly as she could. "I need a nap! I need a diaper! I need a spankin'!"

Calmly, he came to take her by the hand. "Let go, Meg. What you need is to be on the road by ten, and you know that."

Blinking back tears, she followed him from the room but dug in her heels near the bottom of the stairs and stopped. When Daddy turned around, she held out her arms and he put the sack down to pick her up instead.

"Are you gonna miss me?" she asked into his shoulder.

"Baby, I'm missing you already."

The saddest sound in the world was the jingle of her keys as he lay them in the palm of her hand. He walked her out to the car, setting the sack in the back seat and opening the driver's door for her.

"I-" It sounded so trite, and Meg had to swallow hard before she could make herself say those inadequate words. "I had a really nice time."

Daddy David reach for her, and they embraced one final time before she slid in behind the steering wheel.

"Drive slow, drive safe, and, Meg," he leaned in to steal one last kiss from her quivering lips. "Take your time deciding. I want you to be sure. It's a big thing to move all the way out here if we're both not sure. Particularly if it doesn't work out later."

She nodded sadly. "I know."

He reached into his coat pocket and handed her his cell phone. "Call me every hour and if you have any problems. I'll worry about getting it back later, okay?"

As she put the key in the ignition and turned it, the engine coughed and sputtered reluctantly to life, and he said, "Remember, all daddies love their baby girls, and this Daddy's no exception."

"Do you want me to come back?" she asked.

"Baby girl, I don't want you to leave now. But babies' hearts are fragile and they give themselves away too easily. I don't want Meggy's heart to commit to something Meg doesn't feel."

Meg nodded, and David closed the car door. She bit the inside of her lip to stop its unsteady wobbling as she shifted into reverse and backed up. She waved one last time to Daddy, then headed down the long three mile driveway back to the main road.

In the rear view mirror, she saw him waving after her until she crossed beyond the meadow of his front yard and followed the road into the woods. As the trees closed in behind her, she drove around a corner and Daddy and his cabin were gone from sight.

Meg made it halfway down the driveway before her tears distorted the road so badly that she had to stop. It was a long, long time before she could get herself back under control enough to try driving again, but she only managed another twenty feet before she was crying so hard that she simply parked the car and shut the motor off. She curled sideways in the driver's seat, hugged her legs to her chest and sobbed. She was only just beginning to pull herself back together when the cell phone on the passenger's seat lit up and gave a shrill ring.

Meg wiped at her eyes with the backs of both wrists, sniffed twice, and cleared her throat so she might sound as normal as possible when she picked it up. "Hello?"

"Where are you?" Daddy asked.

She sniffled again, and traced the bumps in the steering wheel with one finger. "I've almost gone two miles," she admitted. Her tears started again and her voice cracked. "It's just really hard to drive when you can't see the road."

"Don't move from that spot," he said. "I'm coming to get you."

"Okay," she agreed softly, but he'd already gone and she put the phone back down on the passenger seat. Then she covered her face with her hands. Though he hadn't sounded angry on the phone, he was probably going to spank her. Spank her hard for still being here instead of doing what she'd been told, and then he'd send her home because she really did have to go. She had obligations. Deadlines. She couldn't afford to just sit here and cry all day, no matter how much it felt like her heart was breaking.

Turning off the engine, Meg got out of the car to walk up and down in the fresh air under the shade of the pines. She took long deep breaths in an effort to calm herself. She didn't want to still be crying when he got here. She'd probably be doing enough of that anyway when he turned her across his knee.

Would he take her back to the cabin or spank her right here, she wondered, wringing her hands as she paced beside the car. Probably right here, and she was glad she wasn't closer to the road because, as of yet, Daddy hadn't spanked her on anything less than her bare bottom and she held little hope of his changing now.

She stopped pacing, her shoulders drooping as she stared back down the driveway in Daddy's direction. He'd probably be here soon. She may as well get ready for what she had coming.

Walking a few steps off the road, Meg reached up to break a switch off the closest maple tree. The limb was quite green. She didn't have a knife and so bent it repeatedly back and forth, then rotated it around and around until enough of the branch fibers broke. She yanked and, finally, the switch broke free from the tree. The end of it was mangled and some of the branching twigs were just as stubborn to strip from the switch, most refusing to break smoothly, but she hoped it would do.

Of course, Daddy had needed two the last time he'd switched her. So Meg looked up at the maple again, her bottom fairly crawling with dread. She lay the first switch on the ground and carefully selected another. The second was slightly slimmer and longer than the first, but equally difficult to break off. And in the end, Meg held two switches in hand, and they were as smooth as she could make them without a knife to whittle down the broken twig nubs.